


Light From the Shadow

by ImOutOfMyVulcanMind (LoopyLu94)



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, mild violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-10-14 01:27:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17499047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoopyLu94/pseuds/ImOutOfMyVulcanMind
Summary: Reader knows her place. Knows where her alliances lie, and on which side she fights. In the aftermath of Sauron's defeat, she finds that everything she knows is a lie.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! I know this chapter is pretty short, but there are a couple reasons for it. One is that this is my first Aragorn fic, so I want to see what people think/if there’s interest. The other is that I’m evil, and just want to confuse/tease you all ;)
> 
> I hope you like it!

The battlefield was filled with the shouts and cries of war, the stench of blood and filth thick and heavy in the air. Bodies of men and orc alike were strewn across the ground, some dead, some in agony, wishing they were. You sliced your dagger across the pale neck of a Rohirrim soldier, watching the crimson blood spill out along with what remained of his life. **  
**

Battle had been going in your favor; the King of Rohan was dead, though it cost the life of your Master. That pain you’d felt deeply. After so many years in his service, you were bound to him, his pain becoming yours. Yet with the battle so close to won, you’d fought on, slaying all who crossed your path. Victory had been in your grasp, a final surge and the city of Gondor would fall, and Lord Sauron know of your triumph.

But then the Would-Be King had arrived with his measly army, and hope was rekindled amongst those remaining.

You despised it. The tide was turning against you. If you lost now it would mean your death even if you escaped the battle.

Across the field, you saw him. Isildur’s heir. He was battling many orcs at once and winning. They did not have your skill though. If you were the one to end his life…even if the battle were lost Lord Sauron would reward you handsomely.

You crossed the battlefield swiftly, killing any who dared stand in your way. The ranger had his sword raised to take down another orc when you intercepted with your own, metal clashing against metal as your blade shed down his own. He turned towards you, eyes flashing dangerously.

He moved quickly, pivoting around with his blade, but his blow missed as you deflected it before retaliating.

The two of you fought, swords singing as each sought to find a weakness in the other. There had been rumour that his skill with a blade was unmatched, yet you were still not expecting a meager ranger to have such talent. His skill rivaled even your own. Never had you faced such a challenge.

Everything around you became a distant blur, each step requiring your full attention. Your arms burned with the weight of your blade, legs aching as they wreaked. No. This would not be your end. You dodged his attack and lunged forward in a final blow.

He twisted, catching your leg with his sword. With a cry you hit the dirt hard, your own weapon slipping free as you tumbled. He was on top of you in a moment, blade tip aimed at your throat.

You’d failed. Failed Lord Sauron. Failed your Master. You had earned no honour.

Death did not come. He stayed above you, sword hovering a hair above your skin, but made no move to end your life. You swallowed, feeling the tip press into your neck.

“What are you waiting for? Finish it,” you snarled, glaring up at him.

The ranger stared at you. He grabbed a fistful of your robe and used the edge of his blade to push your hood down, fully revealing your face to him. “Y/N?”

The name meant nothing to you. “Kill me and be done with it!”

“It is I, Aragorn.”

“I know who you are, Isildur’s heir. I do not fear you!”

“You have nothing to fear, Y/N…”

“Why do you call me that? My name is Asgareth.”

He shook his head, “No…”

You did not understand his confusion, the pain in his eyes, or why he was delaying your death for so long. “End me!”

“I will not kill you, Y/N. Not until I understand this.” He released you as he rose, letting you hit the ground again, and stood fully above you. There was no chance to say more before the pommel of his blade collided with your head and all went dark.


	2. Chapter 2

The dull ache in your temple was what roused you, pulling you back from the darkness. You were lying on something soft, but it only took a subtle shift to feel that whatever was under you was not all that thick, and hard floor was barely being concealed. Opening your eyes for the first time, you looked up at a  bare stone ceiling that had seen better days. A cell. You shifted again, moving to brace your hands on the ground to push yourself up, but the movement was restricted when you failed to spread your arms with a soft clink. Shackles. Naturally. With what remained of your patience shortening by the second, you managed to force yourself into a sitting position and fully took in your surroundings. **  
**

Your first assumption had been right; you were in a cell. Three stone walls stood around you, the fourth made of bars that looked out into a cold hall that was no doubt filled with other similar prisons. Metal shackles were clamped around your wrists, limiting your movements, and another sat around your ankle. You followed the chain to see that it connected to the back wall, preventing you from walking too far ahead. Your armour and weapons had been stripped from you, leaving you in just your blood red robe. You pulled it up, revealing a bandage around your calf. A dressing for the injury Isildur’s heir had inflicted upon you when he’d tripped you.

Him.

Why had he not killed you? He’d acted as though he knew you, but that made no sense. Never had your paths crossed. You only knew of him by name and that he was wanted dead by Lord Sauron.  

“Finally awake then.” A man came into view, a soldier. “Pity.”

You said nothing in return, just stared at him.

“Lord Aragorn should have killed you when he had the chance. To spend resources on someone like you…”

That made you smirk. You rose to your feet, smoothly despite the shackles, and walked as close to the bars as the chain would allow. Your leg throbbed in pain, but you ignored it. “Then free me, and I will be gone from your sight. A thing both of us would find agreeable.” You spoke softly, almost sweetly. “Or you could come with me. By my side, we could do great things together. Is that not what you wish? You could lead your own armies, command them to do your will, instead of having to follow the orders from those who do not care about you. None here would weep at your death. But next to me, death would never find you. We would live forever, mighty and powerful, in control of our own destinies.”

One thing your Master had taught you was that the right words, spoken at the right time, could have more power than weapons, could sway even the deadliest of enemies. The soldier before you certainly did not meet that quota, and already you could see the wavering in his features. “What is it you wish for most? Free me from these bonds and I will see it granted.”

“I…I wish…” The soldier reached for the keys on his belt, unhooking them.

“Yes? Tell me, brother, and you will have.”

The metal jangled as the soldier found the right key and held it up to the lock. “I-”

“What are you doing?!” Another soldier burst around the corner, and the one in front of you jerked back, looking stunned as he came back to himself.

“Her! She…she cast some spell upon me!”

“I merely spoke the words you wanted to hear. Told you of the fate you could have if you chose the right side!”

“You asked me what I wished, well I wish you would use your evil magic and rid this world of your presence! Lord Aragorn will soon march upon the Black Gate, and he will be victorious, and you and all your brethren will suffer!”

You snarled, your cuffs clanging loudly against the bars as you grabbed them. “He will lose, and you will all die!” You yelled as the soldiers retreated. “There is no defeating the Great Eye! You will beg for death before the end!”

~

You believed your words. It was impossible for mere mortals to defeat Lord Sauron. Even with someone like Isildur’s heir leading them, the task was laughable. So you sat in your cell and waited. Guards always delivered your food in duos, and they always rotated who, never risking you wooing another into freeing you. It mattered not. Soon the pathetic, ranger-led army would perish, and you would be freed.

Then the unthinkable happened.

The pain struck you hard and fast, knocking the air from your lungs as a searing agony shot its way through your head.

No. No, it could not be. It was impossible.

The soldiers laughed when they confirmed it true.

Sauron had been defeated. His ring destroyed, destroying him in the process. Everything you had fought for…gone. What purpose did you have now? The one thing you had to do was fight to earn him dominance, and now that had been stolen from you. You no longer had an aim, a reason to be.

Those thoughts you kept to yourself, instead spitting venomous words at any who approached you. If they believed you would be so easily broken and defeated, they were wrong. You would fight with all the malice of your Masters until this Aragorn finally saw fit to kill you.

It was several days after your defeat when he and two others walked down the steps to your cell. You knew who they were, and snarled as they approached. Your Master had shown them to you many times, telling you of their evil power, how they were your biggest threats. You were no match for them, and honeyed words would be of no use, but that did not mean you would cower away at the sight.

Standing to full height, you watched as Aragorn, the Elf Lord Elrond, and Mithrandir came to a stop before you.

They were silent at first, watching you watch them. Aragorn looked sorrowful again, still to your confusement, the Elf looked unhappy, his eyebrows furrowed together, and a deep scowl set onto his face, and the wizard… The wizard looked upon you with neutrality. He was the one who unsettled you the most.

“What is your name?” It was Mithrandir who spoke first. He was not overly loud, yet still, the authority rippled forth. It was easy to see how so many looked at him for guidance.

You said nothing.

“Whom do you serve?”

You stared forward, meeting the wizard’s eyes and refusing to wilt away under the intensity of it.

“Do not try us, you will answer our questions!” The Elf spoke, snapping your attention away from Mithrandir.

“Or what?” You hissed, “You’ll kill me? The ranger has made it clear that he would not allow it. Or do you intend on keeping me locked up here? I would sooner rot than obey you.”

“You speak as though you hold great power, I assure you, you do not.”

“I hold power enough! I am Asgareth, servant to the Great Eye! I trained under the King of Angmar. I, who am his right hand while he is Sauron’s, will bring death upon those who oppose us! Return to me my blade, and I will smite you all!”

“Enough!” Aragorn shouted before either of the other two could retaliate. “Your Masters are dead!”

“Yet I will carry out their orders until my own dying breath. It is who I am!”

“You are Y/N of the Dúnedain, daughter of Faeleth and Beinion, two of our greatest warriors. You are a ranger, sworn to protect these lands from harm!”

**_“Izg bolvag lat uluk sha dhaub gurz!”_** You yelled in the speech of Mordor, cursing them painful deaths, and turned away, breathing heavily. The names spoken struck something deep inside you, though you did not recognise them, or know why they caused a brief stab of pain.

“Let us leave, Aragorn. We have learned enough,” Mithrandir spoke from behind you, and soon the sound of retreating footsteps could be heard as they left you behind.

The doors to the cells closed with a heavy thud as the trio walked to more private quarters. Aragron slumped down into a chair with a weary sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I do not understand. With them dead should their power over her not be gone?”

“It depends on what they did to her. You are sure, Aragorn, that it is Y/N?” Gandalf asked, sitting across the table from Aragorn.

“Her face has filled my dreams since she went missing all those years ago. I assumed her dead. The rest of the scouting party met the same fate.”

“Yet her body was never recovered?”

“Just her weapons. Wargs had gotten to the others, their bodies defiled. I believed hers had been too, dragged off to a den mother perhaps. I was a fool.”

“Not a fool. No one would think that she had been taken by Him.”

With another sigh, Aragorn looked up at Gandalf. “What do I do? How do I help her?”

“The solution, to me, is clear,” Elrond said from where he stood by the window, hands clasped behind his back. He turned to face the others. “We must kill her.”

Aragorn laughed, but the smile died from his lips when he saw Elrond’s seriousness. “You must be jesting, my Lord?”

“Your friend is gone, Aragorn, as painful as it may be to admit. In the pits of Angmar, her mind was broken and stripped from her, replaced with the one we see now. The one who’s only thoughts and desires is that of pain and revenge. She will not cease.”

“No. No. She reacted when I told her who she truly was!”

“She cursed us in the foulest of speeches. I would not say that was positive.”

“It could perhaps be that the cause for such an extreme response was some part of her mind knows Aragorn spoke true, yet refuses to admit it,” Gandalf added, looking between the others.

“Perhaps,” Elrond conceded. “Perhaps there is a sliver of a chance you can return her to her right mind, but think, Aragorn. For her to remember who she is, would mean remembering everything. All the pain and torture she went through at the hands of the Witch-King, the heinous things she did in his service. Your friend was good of heart, to force her to remember all that sorrow and evil, could harm her worse than any torture she experienced in Angmar.”

Aragorn looked away, down at his hands for a moment, and then to Gandalf. “Lord Elrond speaks wisely, Aragorn. It may indeed be a greater kindness to give Y/N a swift death that to force her through more pain.”

There was silence in the room while they waited for Aragorn to think and say something. He rose first, pacing across the floor. “Neither of you knew Y/N before. She has faced challenges that would send many men home to their mother and triumphed. She volunteered to lead the scouting party into Angmar. No one else stepped up to the challenge. She was, is, bold, and fearless and strong. I will win her mind back, and face the repercussions together.”

Elrond frowned, stepping forward. “Aragorn, think wisely-”

“All I have done is think since I came across Y/N on the field of Pelennor. I am done. I do not know how, but on this, I swear; I will bring back she who was to be my wife.”


End file.
